by Talyn Scott
With attache case still in hand, Jenny descended narrow, wooden steps on extraordinary heels. She needed to show weakness, to throw her enemy off, so Jenny slipped, dropping her attache case in the process. It went tumbling down the steps, but the woman caught the handle easily with her stiletto heel.
“Whoa!” Jenny ass-planted, probably bruising her tailbone.
“Oh, dear, dizzy spells, nerves I suppose.” The female leaned and gripped Jenny’s forearm in an iron-clad hold, and lifted the case with her free hand. “Here, let me help.”
Jenny accepted her help. “Thanks.” She got a good look at the woman, figuring the Undead was changed when she was in her late forties, early fifties. She was eloquent, yes, but wore a sensible black dress and thick stockings no Vampiress would ever deign to wear.
“Keep your head still.” She brought her past the stair landing, then took a left. “Helps with the dizziness.”
Jenny was trying to count steps, doors, and floors, but they were moving too fast. So she played up the dizziness. “I need to sit down.”
“Hang on, almost there.”
They traveled down another corridor, which was more like a catwalk, with open, wooden railings on both sides. To the right, she spotted a ballroom housing small round tables with six, golden chairs crowded around each. To the left, Jenny noticed a simple library with at least eight rectangular black tables, all etched in gold. She squinted through the windows above, nearly eye level to the catwalk. Arched and proud, large walkthrough window panes were framed in patina copper. In the center of each arch shone a ruby heart, gleaming with moonlight.
“You must meet our founder, a rule of sorts,” she explained. “He’ll go over your dossier and consider if anything needs to be, uh, changed before you meet with potential chosen mates.”
Her dossier? Ah, the papers Syon’s operatives had thrown together in the attache case. They trusted nothing on computers, didn’t want to be hacked.
“Okay.” Basically, all documents were the truth. It was dangerous to lie to a vampire, since many could scent indiscretion, so all operatives agreed Jenny should stick with the sad story of her life — at least, part of the story.
They walked up the last hallway, stopping just outside of ruby-red double doors.
“He’s waiting for you,” the female reached for the handles, finished in the same patina as the windows. “Walk on through.” She patted Jenny’s shoulders. “Don’t be alarmed. He won’t bite the neck that can potentially feed him… in money.”
If the Undead only knew that Jenny could reach over and break her scrawny neck, she wouldn’t pet her like a dog. “Thanks… I don’t know your name.”
Her lips curved, baring a slice of fang. “I’ll tell you, if he allows you to stay.”
Since her last escort said that it was too late to back out once she’d left the helicopter, then that could mean only one thing: a threat. Yeah, Jenny thought; she was going to end up beating the ego out of this broad.
It was Jenny’s turn to curve her lips. “I’ll make sure I stay, then.”
She reached for her attache case.
The Undead clutched it with her blood-red nails. “This goes with me.”
“All right.”
Jenny walked through the double doors, passing a tall vampire dressed in a dark suit with an open collar instead of the typical tie. He inclined his head, gesturing for her to move forward.
A deep inhale, and then a thoroughly male voice murmured, “Hmmm, she’s here.”
Jenny rounded an urn of flowers, barely, and stopped behind an oddly placed Queen Anne chair completely tufted with a tapestry-like embroidery, which depicted more of those ruby-red hearts. It was an odd seat. An arrogant piece. “Is this a spoof on the humans’ holiday?” Or maybe a throne for the queen of hearts who’d led her inside without gracing Jenny with her name?
“Cyna sits there.”
Jenny looked up, trying to spot him in the shadows. “Is she the woman who brought me to your door?”
“Yes.”
She laughed. “Then that explains the chair.”
“I take it, you don’t like Cyna.”
Jenny opened her mouth and nearly choked on her response. Walking around his desk, a Gryph headed her way. He was around six feet, which was short for a male, but his wings more than made up for his height, arching far above his head.
And the memories those wings evoked nearly cut her at the knees.
He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the back with a flourish of Old World charm. “I am Maxim.”
“Jen Wulfstan.” She’d decided no one here would call her by her exact birth name, Jennifer, or by her endearment, Jenny.
“Might I ask if your ancestors descended from the Saxons?” he inquired in a business tone, as though he were categorizing what he could advertise for sale.
She stood nearly eye level to him, while wearing the six-inch heels ‘regulations’ had insisted on, and thought his soft green eyes and wispy bronze hair made him eloquently handsome, not threatening at all…if you could discount the wings. This would be a rookie mistake, though, considering any Gryph non-threatening. And she wondered about all those humans who’d come here before her, wondered if they’d fallen to their knees to pad his pockets.
She shrugged. “Grandpa always said the Saxons descended from the werewolves. Egg or chicken, who came first?”
Maxim laughed, while wrapping a warm arm around her waist and taking most of Jenny’s weight. “You are beautiful and witty.”
“Then, I should be easier to sell.”
“I don’t consider what I do as selling women.” He gave her a sidelong look. “Neither should you objectify yourself in that way.”
“How can I not?” she asked when he settled her into a chair. “I’m here to accept the highest bidder.”
Maxim edged the front of his desk, facing her. “Are you? Or are you here to find the male of which to share the rest of your eternity?”
“To be honest, I’m here mostly for the power. The money would be a bonus.” Jenny stuck with the script. “I can’t find my appointed males, so why not otherwise go for the best available.”
She crossed her legs slowly, sliding skin on skin. Vampires had a thing for skin, loved to see it, taste it, and pop it beneath their fangs. And by Maxim’s sudden inhalation, he was thinking of a doing at least one of those things to Jenny right now.
His hands came down on either side of his thighs, gripping his desk. “I read that Rites to Mate didn’t pan out for you.” Maxim ran his tongue across the front of his teeth. “How unfortunate.”
“Depends on how you look at it.” Another slide, another intent look from prey to predator. “Basically, I was humiliated. You see - I fell in love with my childhood Pack mate, and he never returned the sentiment.” She dropped her leg, recrossing it a second later. “I guess it’s a good thing, too, since he found his female.”
“Yes, you wanted a Ruyter, Beta Blood royalty.” After another deep inhale, Maxim’s irises bled into the whites of his eyes. Yes, he wanted to feed. Maybe more… “You deserve no less.”
“That’s just it, Maxim,” she admitted her true feelings, “I deserved the male I love, not ones nature selected for me.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Again, not that I even found them.”
“So traveling to other Packs and participating in their Rites to Mate ceremonies don’t appeal to you?”
She leaned forward, allowing him to see the best of her breasts, though what was hidden below was a nightmare.
“Without my true love, what appeals to me is beyond what Pack can offer.” Not a lie. “As a consolation, I want power. For me, power means freedom, and I might need a vampire for that. Not some Beast who’s going to insist I stay inside a compound for fear another will take me.” She pointed to her throat. “I want a real mark, maybe a Species mark.”
He searched her eyes, fighting to keep his from her breasts, but it was a losing battle, as hungry as he seemed. “I’ve heard
this before, from mixed bloods. But I think part of you really wants to stick it to your old Pack mate.”
She forced a casual smile. Jenny didn’t want to stick anything to Ail Ruyter, wasn’t broken over him anymore, and that was strength in itself. Power, too. “When it comes down to it, why I’m here has nothing to do with the outcome.”
He tapped his knuckles on his desk and stood. “I don’t agree with that but I’ll agree to broker your mating.”
Jenny gave herself a mental high-five. Reemphasizing what Syon wanted, she reminded, “I want to live in the ultimate lifestyle.” The task forced needed to find the highest rollers, so they could shut down the clubs faster. After all, no money equaled no clubs. “I want everything.”
“Most of those vampires are from my motherland.” Undoubtedly, he spoke of Russia. His accent thickened, “Are you prepared to leave the states?”
“For the right price, I’m prepared for anything.” How she hated saying that to a vampire! Jenny watched on as greed made Maxim’s eyes greener by the second.
“So you’ll shed your virgin’s blood to bond with a Species vampire?”
“Yes, I’m prepared.” Prepared to take Maxim and his house of hearts down.
He glanced at his watch. “Would you be ready by tomorrow night, to begin your search?”
Like a cat to cream, she thought. “What do you have in mind?”
“Our first ball of the month,” Maxim replied, “a few vampires from my homeland will attend.” He pulled her up from sitting, searching her eyes intently. “This would give you the opportunity you desire, Jen.”
“I will attend.”
“You’ve read the rulebook, know it by heart?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you understand that a Sentinel will be assigned to you at all times, for your protection of course.”
For her imprisonment, he meant. “I understand.”
“Then understand from this day forward, until you release your body to your future vampire, you no longer belong to the Alpha of North America.”
However powerful Maxim was, he could never remove the mark Jayce Jordan had placed on her head. What Maxim was insisting on, however, was a vow of allegiance to him and only him. A promise Jenny would follow him just as any other subjugate vampire, obeying him as her Master.
Not only had Syon briefed her on vampire politics, she knew vampires considered possession a power into itself. “I offer my allegiance to you, Maxim.”
Closing his eyes on a deep inhale, she watched in grim satisfaction as his cheekbones sharpened beneath his skin, his shoulders pressing outward as his body broadened. “A crimson kiss to seal our vow.” He opened his hands wide, protracting claws comparable to those of a werewolf.
“Yes,” she agreed faintly, hating the words even Syon never asked of her, but she had to say them. “I am yours, Master.”
Upon hearing her promise, Maxim’s fangs shot down, draping his chin. Jenny grabbed her throat protectively as he stepped in front of her and dropped to his knees, his wings wrapping around her in a semi-circle. “I’ve wanted to taste you since your application came across my desk.” He traced a careful line across her jaw with the back of a single claw, and she felt panic grip her chest. If he flicked it the barest of an inch, he’d flay the flesh from her face. “Take your hand from your throat.”
Jenny relinquished the protective hold on her throat just as Maxim closed his hand around the side of her neck, and curled his wings around her completely, though not touching.
Wetness stirred between her legs when the tips of his fangs pricked her skin. She was vaguely aware of them tugging and nibbling, coaxing a vein or artery to the surface. The endorphins leaving his body and going into hers were a natural effect of the bite, and Jenny wasn’t immune to it whatsoever. In fact, she moaned when his opposite hand gripped her waist in a sure hold.
As he released more of his inner vampire, allowing his true nature freedom, Maxim grew larger and deadlier, his power growing around her, sucking her in, just as Maxim meant for it to.
Predator to prey.
“That’s it, Jen.” He kissed a line up the column of her throat, then rubbed his nose beneath her ear, inhaling. “So sharp and tangy, I’ve never before tasted a pureblood — never mastered one, either.”Maxim bit down and swallowed against her throat.
After a minute, Jenny realized his crimson kiss was turning into a feeding, but that didn’t worry her. Maxim would never give up the money she could bring him, her lineage a hot commodity for his auctions, which meant he would take care of her until the transaction transpired.
With a shaky hand, she ran her fingers through the silk of his hair, and listened as Maxim groaned in vampiric bliss at his taste of a pureblood female werewolf. A rare delicacy, Syon had told her during each of his three feedings with her.
Breaking the trance, a feminine voice cleared in obvious aggravation. “Master, guests are arriving.”
Maxim tensed as he released his bite, his body shuddering from unadulterated desire. Not for her wet heat, but for Jenny’s crimson nectar. He licked her skin closed, though her naturally healing abilities would tackle the pinpricks with no effort, and lifted his head to glower at a tight faced Cyna, her mouth forming a disapproving moue.
A hiss left his throat, a warning from Master to Undead. “How dare you interrupt me.” His hand lashed out, flesh smacking flesh, and sent Cyna flying until she landed square on her tufted throne. “I will deal with you later,” he added meaningfully.
With great delicacy, he assisted Jenny to standing. “Cyna will see you to your room. By tomorrow night,” he said stiffly as he cupped her by the elbow and gestured for Cyna to rise, “you will find what you’re looking for, Jen.”
Jenny nodded, then followed Cyna back through the double doors. Discreetly, she reached inside her bra, rubbing the thin blade as she pulled out an Irish lace handkerchief. Blotting her neck to absorb Maxim’s DNA from his bite, she murmured to Cyna, “That’s gotta hurt.”
The Undead bit back a hiss, glaring at her with only one eye, the other’s orbit crushed in on itself. After that, they strolled ten minutes without talking, which allowed Jenny to catalogue any structural details to give later to Syon.
“Master Maxim relishes pain above pleasure.” Cyna reached inside her jacket, removing a single key, obviously a master key. “Inflicting pain, that is.” She smiled coldly as the door opened, revealing posh accommodations, though Jenny had expected nothing less. “You’re next, unless you get out of here by tonight.”
Jenny stepped into the room, spotting a wealth of clothes hanging in an open armoire. “I can make Maxim a small fortune,” Jenny insisted, though her self assuredness stepped back a fraction. “I’m a rarity.” This wasn’t vanity talking, but unequivocal truth. “It’s not worth any risk for Maxim to damage me.”
“You’re assuming your new Master can’t damage you without leaving marks.”
Jenny sensed her scars burning anew beneath her clothes, knew Cyna had no clue that Jenny was already damaged. And if earlier Jenny had continued to lose her head during his crimson-kiss-turned-feeding, Maxim would have spotted a map of scars hidden beneath the veil of her clothes.
This would have blown her part of the investigation. After all, how could any male want to buy her with knowledge of her scars?
Striding forward to open the balcony doors and absorb the moonlight, Jenny stated with a calmness she didn’t feel, “I’ll take that under advisement.”
The door slammed right before the key twisted in the outer lock.
Chapter 11
Sanibel Island, Florida
Jayce stood on the marsh’s edge, watching his baby brother run off with his mates. He was so damn happy for Archer, was proud of his newest sister-n-law, as well, and would get to know her better when time allowed.
Bane walked up behind him. “I knew they wouldn’t cut that damn cake.”
Jayce studied the full moon for a long moment. “I’m sur
prised they made it through the ceremony.” His eyes dropped and found Tatum. She was feeding Ardan an icing rose, his little guy wasted no time in smashing red frosting all over Tatum’s dress. Instead of scolding him, she started giggling. And in that moment, witnessing the never-ending patience his mate maintained for their Youngling, he fell in love with her all over again. An eternity is what he had with Tatum, but even that would never be enough.
Gage misted in next to Bane, expelling a tired breath. “Jayce, we — ”
“Don’t have Jenny back yet,” Jayce finished. He asked, though he already knew the answer, “At this point, do we have anything to go on?”
Gage shook his head no, his expression just as grim as Bane’s. “I’m leading the hunt over the Everglades.”
“Go home to Azure,” Jayce argued, “I have every available unmated male on this, including Heath Faden and many other mated Pack males who are foregoing the full moon to find her.”
Gage shifted uncomfortably. “I mean no respect, Alpha, but Azure would have my balls, if I showed up to mate her while one of our females was in the hands of… God knows what.” He winced. “And my werewolf and I can’t go through this night of the full moon and pretend Jenny’s not out there needing us.”
“Then I’ll relent, Gage, so long as next full moon you take the night off,” Jayce agreed reluctantly. “But bring your Trackers up here. She’s not in the Everglades, I sense Jenny close by.”
“As you wish.” Gage inclined his head, vaporizing into the night air. “I’ll have everyone here before the end of the hour.”
Bane closed his eyes, pulled back his arms, and breathed deeply. “I kept thinking I had Jenny pinpointed.”
Jayce sniffed the air again. “All I know is she’s alive.”
Bane’s relief evident, he explained, “I’ve gone over her facility room twenty times. There was no struggle, no signs of foul play. It was as though she up and left on her own.”
Jayce nodded. He’d read the reports. “I hope she did. I really do. But we must find her either way.” Jenny was an unmated female under his protection. Even if she left on her own, she should have told him where she was going, and took along a guard or two.